


The Landscape on Fire

by GrizzlyBear1710



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Clexaweek2020, F/F, Historical drama, Noblewoman Lexa, Portrait of a lady on fire au, Portraits, painter, period drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrizzlyBear1710/pseuds/GrizzlyBear1710
Summary: This is mostly the storyline of 'The Portrait of the Lady on Fire' with a few changes and a happier ending. Lexa is being considered as a marriage partner for Prince Roan of Azgeda, so Clarke is employed by Lexa's mother to do her portrait. The artist refuses to continue painting her, knowing that the noblewoman is unhappy with the arrangement. Their newfound friendship awakens something within Lexa that she'd been suppressing: Love. However, Clarke's time with Lexa was running out and she had to leave the woman behind. So, she started a new painting to capture the soul of the woman she loved on canvas forever - The Landscape on Fire.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	The Landscape on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Another one that's late for Clexaweek. I've just recently watched 'The Portrait of the Lady on Fire' and adored it. I don't know my history or period dramas, so adopted this one. Hope you enjoy!

Clarke was done painting the portrait of the noblewoman. She hadn’t physically completed it, not even close. But she couldn’t force her to sit there for another minute knowing that the woman would rather throw herself off a cliff than marry the man her mother had hoped she would. He was a prince from the country of Azgeda and Lexa had never met him. He was also fifteen years her senior at the age of 38. So, Clarke removed the canvas from her easel, replacing it with a new one. 

“Why have you started again?” asked Lexa curiously. She was poised in a rather uncomfortable position, with her sat on a stool, her hands crossed over her lap. Her dark, curly hair was down over one shoulder, reaching down to her emerald dress that honestly didn’t suit the noblewoman. It made her look awkward, like it was just hanging off her lean frame. She was looking up at Clarke curiously, her eyes comically wide. 

“I didn’t like it,” Clarke replied simply, “but don’t worry you don’t have to sit like that anymore.” 

Lexa’s body immediately relaxed, her shoulders slumping as she breathed out, “Okay. Thank God, I was getting stiff.” She paused thoughtfully, and asked, “How are you going to draw me then?” 

“Um,” Clarke began, “I’m not going to draw you.” 

Lexa cocked her head to the side, confused, asking, “Why not?” 

Clarke sighed, placing her charcoal pencil down on the easel, wiping her hands on her apron before lifting it over her head. In her whole career, she’d never refused to do someone’s portrait. But she knew the woman before her didn’t consent to this portrait. It was her mother who had demanded the portrait. Apparently, she couldn’t wait for her daughter to get out of her house and marry some random prince. Well, he wasn’t some random prince. He was Prince Roan of Azgeda, son of Queen Nia. Clarke stepped around the easel, sitting down before Lexa and looking her directly in the eyes. 

“I know you don’t want to get sent off to marry him,” said Clarke almost in a whisper. Clarke couldn’t forget that Lexa’s mother was downstairs and had a very high chance of hearing their conversation. 

“What do you mean?” asked Lexa, feigning innocence. 

Sighing, Clarke said, “No one would want to be in your position, Lexa. I couldn’t imagine being married off to someone I’d never met. I don’t feel comfortable doing this knowing that I’m helping sell off a woman to a man she’s never met.” 

Lexa stood up, “I don’t have to listen to this. Show me the first portrait.” 

Slowly, Clarke walked over to the discarded canvas and turned it around so Lexa could see. She made her way over to it, her eyes tracing over every detail Clarke had drawn. She was drawn first to the lifelike strands of hair cascading over her shoulder like every single paintbrush stroke had been carefully constructed. She saw glimmers of golden sunlight mixed in with the chestnut browns. The artist had made her look a real person stuck on a canvas. Even her eyes looked like they could blink at any minute. Clarke had created the exact shade of green on her palate to mimic the forest green of Lexa’s eyes, complete with specks of gold. Even in a mirror, Lexa hadn’t noticed certain parts of her eyes, face, or hair in this sheer amount of detail. 

“Clarke,” Lexa began, reaching out to place a hand on the canvas, “you’ve made me look beautiful.” Her voice was breathy and in a small whisper. 

Snorting, Clarke said, “No, I didn’t.” When Lexa looked at her, confused, Clarke continued, “You’re already beautiful. I just captured it on a canvas.” 

When Lexa looked at her next, there was something in her eyes Clarke hadn’t seen before and she couldn’t quite place it. But Clarke found that she couldn’t look away, enraptured by the brunette. Lexa couldn’t look away either, both transfixed by each other. After what seemed like a lifetime, Lexa looked away to stare back at the portrait. 

“Thank you,” Lexa whispered. 

“You’re welcome,” Clarke replied with a small smile. 

“It’s time to show mother,” said Lexa curtly, before turning on her heel, “She’ll want it sent to Prince Roan immediately.” Clarke’s stomach dropped as Lexa left the room, her clicking footsteps getting further away. 

Unfortunately, Lexa’s mother was greatly impressed with Clarke’s work of art, beaming when Clarke unveiled it. She’d clapped her hands together, telling Clarke she did an amazing job of capturing Alexandria’s natural beauty. She told both women that she was going away for a trip, but that Clarke could stay for a short while, but she wanted the artist gone before she got back in five days’ time. Handing her a wad of money, she left Clarke’s room with a spring in her step. Even ten minutes after her mother had left, Lexa remained in Clarke’s chamber, looking at the portrait intently. But there was something different crossing her features. It was something like a longing. But for what, Clarke didn’t know. So, she left the woman alone, retreating downstairs.

When Lexa’s mother had left the house on Monday morning, Clarke wasn’t sure if she should stay or get the next carriage back to her village. Her carriage was due to arrive Friday afternoon, so she didn’t really have much choice unless she wanted to blow her earnings. So, she remained in the house, pulling out her second canvas and setting it on her easel. She hadn’t made much progress with her painting. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was planning on drawing. 

Suddenly, she heard a rapping on her door. Placing her pencil back down, she walked over to her chamber door. Behind it stood Lexa, her hands crossed down by her waist and her eyes cast downwards. She looked shy and out of her comfort zone, it seemed. Nevertheless, Clarke stood aside, allowing the woman to step inside her chamber. 

“No,” Lexa began, and Clarke looked up, searching her face for an answer, “I want to go on a walk.” 

“Okay,” Clarke replied unsurely, not knowing whether Lexa was asking her permission or for her company. 

“Will you join me?” Lexa asked. Slowly, Clarke nodded. She removed her apron and grabbed her coat, hurrying down the stairs to meet the noblewoman at the door. She hadn’t explored the area since she got there, being cooped up in her chamber drawing Lexa. Now, she had a few free days to do as much exploring as her heart desired – providing she didn’t get lost. 

Immediately after her first deep breath of fresh air, Clarke fell in love with the surrounding area. It was a forest, the deep colour of green similar to Lexa’s eyes. The trees were covered in lush green leaves, with a bright blue sky breaking in through the branches, illuminating the whole forest floor. There was a somewhat beaten dirt track snaking through the tall trees that Clarke assumed they’d follow. However, Lexa turned off the track and deeper into the woods. Clarke had no choice but to follow her. The slight breeze rustled the leaves and blew through her blonde hair. Although the treetops blocked out most of the sun, Clarke could still feel the heat on her skin. She didn’t need her coat. 

“Where are we going?” Clarke asked when she could no longer navigate where they’d come from and where the track was. 

“Clarke,” Lexa sighed, “You don’t need to worry where we’re going. I know these woods like the back of my hand.” For the first time, Clarke spotted a smile gracing Lexa’s lips as she stepped over tree trunks and roots that she seemed to know were there without looking down. On the other hand, Clarke had to keep lifting her skirt up to ensure she wouldn’t get it snagged on the forest floor or trip up. 

Within a few minutes, Clarke could hear the rushing of water nearby. It sounded like a stream or even a waterfall. The more steps they took, the louder the rushing water got. Besides the sound of water, Clarke could hear the chirping birds, the rustling of small mammals in the undergrowth and fallen leaves, and the crunching of their footsteps on the ground. Clarke kept taking deep breaths, allowing the oxygen to enter her lungs, then breathe out again. It felt like the wind itself was breathing life into her, regenerating her cells. She looked up, noticing that Lexa was glancing back at her with a smile on her face. Clearly, this was Lexa’s happy place and she was enjoying sharing it with someone else. It was pure and kind of vulnerable, thought Clarke, that someone like Lexa would take her on an adventure through the woods on her doorstep. 

Clearly, with Lexa being an only-child and having only her mother as company, that the noblewoman hadn’t shown this neck of the woods to anyone else before. It made Clarke feel a little special, a warm feeling building in her stomach. The forest was beautiful. It was no wonder Lexa enjoyed exploring the area to escape the constraints of those four walls. There was no way that Clarke could live like this. She was a free spirit, a freelance portraitist, taking after her late father. She lived her life in solitude, knowing people for no longer than a week usually, but – although it was lonely – it was better than being held up in a house every day, waiting for your mother to marry you off to a stranger. 

Suddenly, they broke through the trees, revealing a small stream of running water surrounded by luscious green grass. Clarke couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped through her lips. This was by far the most beautiful place Clarke had ever laid eyes on. When she looked across at Lexa, the brunette already had her eyes on her, clearly waiting to observe her reaction. 

“Lexa, this place is amazing!” said Clarke, finally feeling the full heat coming from the sun’s rays due to the lack of trees blocking the sky. 

“You’re the only one who calls me that,” was Lexa’s reply. 

“What?” Clarke questioned, “Lexa?” The brunette nodded, lifting her skirt so she could settle down against a rock on the grass. She spread her fingers over the soft grass and brushed over it with her hands. “I’m sorry,” Clarke continued, “I can stop if you prefer Alexandria.” Lexa upturned her nose at her name, pursing her lips like she’d just tasted something sour. 

“No, I like it when you call me Lexa,” she said, pausing before she added, “It makes me feel more…normal.” Hesitantly, Clarke took a seat across from Lexa and relaxed against the rock behind her back. 

“Normal how?” Clarke asked, leaning back with her hands beneath her head. This weather was glorious. 

“Alexandria sounds so pretentious. When you call me Lexa, I feel like I’m just spending time with a…friend,” Lexa admitted, unsure of the use of her final word. Could she call her and Clarke friends? Technically, Clarke was working for her. Well technically she was working for her mother. 

“So, I can continue calling you Lexa?” Clarke asked. 

“I’d like that.” 

Clarke had no idea how long they spent out next to the stream, but they managed to discuss a lot of things, like food, family, and life experiences. This was the closest either of the young women had ever been to another person, sharing stories and even some jokes. They laughed all day under the sun. Once they returned to the house, Lexa’s smile was still present. It was a beautiful thing to see, Clarke thought. Lexa was incredibly beautiful anyway, but when she smiled…God, she was stunning. Clarke felt her stomach flip every time Lexa sent a smile in her direction. So, when she retreated to her chamber to settle in for the night, her portrait of Lexa looked glum now she’d experienced the smile on the brunette’s face. That could be their secret. Something Clarke could keep close to her heart whenever she thought of the brunette once she left. Once she left. That was right; Clarke would have to leave in four days. The thought left her with an unpleasant feeling in her lower abdomen. She felt like she’d finally made a friend in this lonely world.   
But, once she left, Clarke could go back to her life in her village, continuing with her job and her freedom. On the other hand, Lexa would be travelling miles to the country of Azgeda and marrying a man she’d never met and could never be in love with. How their lives – no matter how intertwined now – were so different. But, why did Clarke think Lexa could never be in love with Roan? Eventually, she might fall for the prince, wouldn’t she? Couldn’t she? Clarke just couldn’t imagine the noblewoman sat pristinely at a dinner table with a prince, drinking expensive wine and dining like a princess. Although Lexa came from wealth, she didn’t come across as the princess type. That lifestyle just wasn’t for her. Clarke almost felt guilty that she had all this freedom while the other woman was meant for the life of an arranged marriage, complete with children. Tormented with her thoughts, Clarke struggled to fall asleep that night. 

Although it was bucketing down with rain the next day, Lexa still wanted to go out into the forest, arguing that ‘she wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer once she was married.’ Clarke couldn’t disagree, so equipped with their coats, layers and umbrellas, the two young women stepped out. Despite the rain, it wasn’t cold. Instead of walking slightly in front of Clarke, Lexa remained in-step with the blonde, making light conversation. 

“Do you have friends back in your village, Clarke?” Lexa asked and Clarke smiled to herself. She’d never had someone take this much interest in her before. It wasn’t unwelcome. She also loved how soft Lexa’s voice was, too. She felt like she could listen to her all day. Damn, what was coming over her?

“Some, yeah, but I don’t see as many anymore,” Clarke replied. 

“Oh,” said Lexa, surprised, “How come?” 

Cringing, Clarke regretted bringing this up, but said, “They got married.” When Lexa fell silent, Clarke knew she’d messed up. 

They both stopped under a huge oak tree, keeping them sheltered from the rain. Around them, the raindrops dropped from the massive leaves and onto the ground, making loud splattering noises. The blue sky above was replaced by a cloudy grey one, reflecting the expression on Lexa’s face that had been permanent since Clarke’s insensitive comment. 

“Is marriage really that bad?” asked Lexa, wide-eyed, but with a frown instead of a smile. Clarke wanted to kick herself. The woods were the only place that put a smile on Lexa’s face and Clarke had taken that away from her. 

“No, I’m sure it’s not,” she said, trying to backtrack, “My good friend, Octavia, loves her husband.” 

“Ahh,” Lexa sighed in relief, “Was their marriage arranged, too?” 

Again, Clarke wished she’d kept her mouth shut, “No actually, it wasn’t. They courted for a long time before Lincoln asked for her hand.” 

“Oh,” said Lexa, her expression returning to one of gloom. 

“But you never know,” Clarke began, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ve heard Prince Roan is very dashing and that his castle is beautiful. He also has many servants who’ll cook and clean for you.” 

Clarke sensed the mood. It was clear that Lexa was unhappy, very unhappy. She lowered her head and dropped her shoulders. It made Clarke wonder. Most women would be happy that of all people, they were getting offered to a prince, especially one well known for his handsomeness as Roan. Clearly, there must be something else to Lexa’s unhappiness. 

“Can I ask you something?” said Clarke nervously. Lexa looked up at her expectantly, then shook her head. 

“Let us sit first,” she said, tucking her skirt beneath her as she sat against the tree trunk on the mostly dry ground. Obliging, Clarke joined her, sitting merely inches away from the noblewoman. Turning her head to her, Lexa asked, “What would you like to ask?” 

Gulping, Clarke said, “Please don’t take offense, but why are you so against this potential marriage? I mean, he is a Prince.” Clarke watched flickers of emotions cross over Lexa’s features in milliseconds: Anxiety, concern, guilt, and longing. She looked like she was turning over a sentence in her head, trying to find the words she wanted to say. 

“I know I will not love him,” Lexa said slowly, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing and drop herself in hot water. 

“How do you know that? He may be very good looking or charming?” Clarke asked. Shaking her head, Lexa maintained eye-contact with Clarke. 

“I can’t fall in love with him, Clarke,” Lexa repeated but with more vigour this time. 

“But I don’t understand why,” Clarke pressed. She could feel Lexa’s agitation growing. 

“I just can’t!” Lexa shouted, turning away from Clarke, her chest raising and falling rapidly. 

Tentatively, Clarke reached between them and traced over Lexa’s hands with her own fingers. She was expecting the brunette to whip her fingers away, but Lexa showed little restraint. Instead, she laced their fingers together, purposely trying to avoid Clarke’s gaze. 

“Then just tell me why not,” asked Clarke softly, searching Lexa’s face. She stroked her thumb over the top of Lexa’s hand gently. She hoped it would comfort the woman. Instead, Lexa’s restless eyes darted back and forth, surveying the surrounding area, almost like she was checking that no one else was around them to hear her. Instead of replying to the painter, though, Lexa took Clarke’s hand in her own, squeezed a little, then held on almost for dear life. 

“I don’t want to go back to the house,” said Lexa quietly, finally raising her head to meet Clarke’s eyes. Clarke recognised that the woman beside her was troubled. There was a storm brewing in the forest green of Lexa’s eyes. 

“We have to,” Clarke replied. The sun was dipping a little as the air turned colder. 

“We could stay out here,” Lexa suggested. 

“It’s too cold and we don’t have any shelter or food.” 

“Then let’s start a fire,” said Lexa, standing up. Before Clarke could argue, Lexa began walking away to collect firewood. 

However, when the brunette returned, Clarke had to try her best to stifle a laugh. The woman had her arms full of damp wood. 

“Lexa, that wood won’t burn if it’s wet. It’ll just smoke,” Clarke explained, taking the wood from Lexa’s arms. “I’ll go find some dry wood; you wait here,” said Clarke, placing a hand on Lexa’s forearm, then retreating into the woods. Lexa stood awkwardly under the tree, not sure what to busy herself with until Clarke’s return. So, she rooted through her pockets for her matches until her fingers hit something wooden and small: Bingo! Lexa began to worry once Clarke didn’t return after about fifteen minutes. 

“Clarke!” Lexa shouted. The silence was broken by some rustling of leaves on the ground. She called out her name again. And again. And again. She couldn’t take it anymore, so lit one of her sticks on fire and used it to guide her through the woods to find Clarke. Every few steps, she yelled out Clarke’s name. Her voice raised and she became more panicked every few minutes that passed. 

“Yeah? I’m here. Are you okay?” suddenly came Clarke’s voice as she popped into Lexa’s view. Lexa screeched, stumbling backwards. 

“Where have you been? You gave me a fright,” said Lexa, clutching her chest. 

“Looking for firewood,” said Clarke simply, “Yeah, I might have gotten a little lost, but look, you found me!” She patted Lexa on the shoulder, then began walking back in the direction Lexa came. Behind her back, Lexa rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. This woman would be the death of her. 

With a crackling warm fire, both women felt considerably warmer. The rain had eased off, so they were using their coats as blankets over themselves. Clarke stared at the fire, watching as the flames rose into the air and crackled. Beside her, she felt Lexa shivering. When she glanced across, the woman had her eyes open with her coat up to her nose, trying to keep her warm. 

“Move closer to the fire,” Clarke suggested softly. Nodding, Lexa shuffled further down, feeling the warmth a little stronger. However, she was still shivering. 

“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,” said Lexa, still trembling. Clarke cracked a smile, looking down at the noblewoman. Clarke wasn’t the tiniest bit cold.

“Sharing body heat would keep us warm,” said Clarke with a shrug, remembering what her dad had told her when she was younger, and their house’s roof had blown off. A blush crept onto Lexa’s cheeks with the implication of Clarke’s words. But she was so cold, she was willing to try anything. 

Clarke draped her own coat over the pair of them, feeling Lexa sidle closer to her side. They were led down, both barely touching each other’s arms side by side. Lexa’s shivering wasn’t as bad, but she was still unbearably cold. Lexa could feel Clarke’s heat radiating from her body onto Lexa’s skin. 

“Are you still cold?” Clarke asked in a whisper. Lexa’s answer was a swift nod of her head. So, Clarke pulled her arm out of the coat and manoeuvred it around Lexa’s neck. Hesitantly, Lexa obliged, lifting her head to lay on Clarke’s shoulder. Immediately, she felt warmth seep into her skin, relieving her shivers at the touch of her body against Clarke’s. Instinctively, Lexa turned her head and full body towards Clarke. She closed her eyes and tried to settle into sleep. But she felt like every nerve ending in her skin was on fire. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. But she needed warmth. 

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered in a barely audible voice. The blonde looked down at her. Taken aback, Clarke audibly gasped. In Lexa’s forest green eyes, she could see the reflection of the flickering of the fire. She didn’t have time to react. Lexa reached up, stroking the side of Clarke’s face. Then, she extended her neck; licked her lips; and gently pressed her mouth against Clarke’s lips. Clarke’s mind short-circuited. Of course, Lexa couldn’t love Prince Roan. Of course. 

Slowly, Clarke’s body caught up with her mind as she moved her lips against Lexa’s. She couldn’t believe how soft Lexa’s lips were. She’d never kissed a girl before. She’d kissed plenty of men in her past, but none sent electricity through her veins the way Lexa did. Her hands came to rest upon Lexa’s waist, sliding around to hold her close. As soon as Clarke began reciprocating the kiss, Lexa immediately relaxed, lifting her other hand to place on the blonde’s shoulder. She slid her hand around the back of Clarke’s head, tangling her fingers in her hair. A tug on her hair elicited a sharp intake of breath and a small moan from the blonde. She pulled Lexa impossibly close, pushing her knee between Lexa’s legs and deepening the kiss. Lexa pressed her tongue into Clarke’s mouth, desperately trying to bring her closer. Clarke’s knee ground between Lexa’s legs, causing the brunette to let out a deep moan. The noise stilled Lexa completely. Immediately, she retracted, pulling away from Clarke. 

“I…I’m sorry…I don’t know why I…” said Lexa, looking everywhere but at Clarke. 

“Lex-,” Clarke began, but was interrupted by the brunette standing abruptly and stamping out the fire, salvaging one lit branch. “Lexa, what are you doing?” asked Clarke, sitting up, breathless, red-faced and confused. 

“You were right; this was a bad idea. I’m going back to the house,” said Lexa and before Clarke could argue, the brunette had pulled on her coat and was on her way into the trees.

Stumbling over roots, branches and uneven ground, Clarke found it near impossible to keep up with the brunette who knew the forest like the back of her hand. Eventually, they made it back to the house which was looming over them in complete darkness. Throwing the door open, Lexa walked in and immediately scampered up the stairs. Clarke was left alone in the dark downstairs. She trudged upstairs, pushing her chamber door open. She slumped down on her bed, and for the first time since her dad died, she cried. 

The following days were spent in awkward silences and averted gazes. Every time Clarke glanced at Lexa, Lexa would drop her head and pretend that the blonde wasn’t there. It was torture for Clarke. It was Thursday afternoon when Clarke finally snapped, grabbing Lexa by the elbow and spinning her around to face her. 

“Lexa!” she shouted, “We need to talk.” When she looked into Lexa’s eyes, Clarke was amazed by what she saw: Fury. 

“No, we don’t,” said Lexa definitively. She shook her arm out of Clarke’s grasp and paced up the stairs.   
“Lexa!” Clarke called after her, running upstairs, hot on her heel. Surprisingly, Lexa entered Clarke’s chamber instead of her own. 

Once Clarke joined her, she looked directly at Lexa, unsure what to expect. Out of all the scenarios running through her head, she didn’t anticipate Lexa striding purposefully towards her, pushing her against the wall, and locking her lips onto Clarke’s. Her hands came up to cradle Clarke’s face, stroking her thumbs over her cheeks as Clarke pressed her hands into Lexa’s hips. This kiss was the opposite to the one they’d shared a few nights ago. This was rushed, intense and urgent. It was fiery, passionate and desperate. They couldn’t keep their hands or lips off each other for longer, clawing at each other’s dresses until they could rip them over their heads. Once all their clothes were removed, they fell into bed and spent the next few hours beneath the sheets. 

By the time Friday rolled around, Clarke’s carriage was due to arrive in less than an hour. She’d packed up all her belongings into her trunk, including one of the canvases that she’d just finished. The other she left outside Lexa’s door for her to keep. Speaking of which, she hadn’t heard from the noblewoman all morning. Clarke hated goodbyes. Nevertheless, she knocked on the brunette’s door not long before her carriage was due. She couldn’t hear the familiar footsteps approaching, or anything from within the room. Calling out Lexa’s name, Clarke pressed her ear against the thick wooden door: Nothing. Dejectedly, Clarke scribbled a note and placed it on top of the canvas, telling Lexa she’d left her the portrait and it was her decision whether she wanted to send it to Prince Roan or keep it herself. Then, she dragged her trunk down the stairs, letting it thump down every step. 

Her carriage arrived exactly on time. She loaded her trunk onto it, then looked back at the house. There were no signs of life at the windows. So instead she looked at the forest which held so many memories, shared smiles, whispered stories, and of course, their first kiss. Slowly, Clarke climbed onto the carriage, smiling sadly at the coachman. He returned her smile, then whipped the reigns, the horses drawing the carriage down the long, winding path. 

The carriage only travelled a few metres before Clarke heard the thundering footsteps trailing behind her. Then she heard yelling. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop the carriage!” came the familiar voice. The coachman looked expectantly at Clarke. When she looked behind, she saw her. 

“Quick, stop the carriage!” she shouted. He immediately brought the carriage to a standstill. Lexa caught up to the horses, using her hand to grab hold of the side of the carriage and swung herself up. Then, the carriage set off again. “You don’t have any bags, or anything,” said Clarke, trying to hold off the huge beam threatening to appear on her face. 

“I don’t need anything; I’ve got you,” said Lexa, “If you’ll have me, of course,” she hastened to add. 

“Of course,” Clarke replied, smiling from ear to ear. “What about your portrait?”

“Mother can do what she wants with it,” said Lexa dismissively, then turned towards the blonde, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. 

Fast forward five years later and Clarke and Lexa were sat on their sofa in Clarke’s house she inherited from her father. She’d had a long day, teaching all her students about portraiture. But now her working day was done so she could cuddle up to Lexa. They were sat in candlelight, their fingers intertwined. 

“Hey,” said Lexa thoughtfully, “You never told me what you did with that second canvas.” 

“Ah yes!” said Clarke, clicking her fingers, “Do you want to see it?” In response, Lexa nodded eagerly. Clarke left the living room and into her small art studio. Lexa followed her, nervous as to what Clarke was going to reveal to her. Carefully, Clarke pulled out a large canvas, turning it around to Lexa, and Lexa was gobsmacked. It was so much more beautiful than the portrait Clarke had done of her. It was insane, truly a work of art. There was a huge eye that Clarke had painted, but instead of a normal iris, it was filled with a very familiar forest scene made up of trees, grass, branches, and the night sky. 

“Clarke…” Lexa managed, with tears welling in her eyes. 

“I was disappointed with the portrait I drew because I didn’t think it captured you well. So, I drew this because I felt like it caught your soul. When we were in that forest, that’s when you weren’t Alexandria and you became Lexa. You became you. Lexa, it’s all in your eyes,” said Clarke. After that sentence, Lexa had tears streaming down her face. She was so in love with the artist before her, she had no words. They’d said the three words to each other plenty of times before, but Lexa had never felt more in love than she did in this moment. 

Also, within the eye were the golden specks that were visible in Lexa’s eyes in certain lights. But, when she looked closer, they weren’t specks of gold. They were flames of fire. It reminded her of the fire they’d built the night of their first kiss, of Lexa’s very first kiss. The green of the leaves was the exact shade of Lexa’s eyes. The fire looked incredibly realistic that it took Lexa’s breath away. 

“What’s the painting called?” she asked. 

Clarke smiled, looking directly into Lexa’s forest green eyes, and said, “The Landscape on Fire.”


End file.
